I know every
rock and gully within two miles of that cabin. I helped to build that
little house. I used to tramp around in the woods alone. I used to sit
and read, and sometimes just dream, under those big cedars on hot
summer afternoons. The boys thought they would make a little fortune
in that timber. Then one day, when they were felling a tree, a flying
limb struck me on the head--and I was blind; in less than two hours of
being unconscious I woke up, and I couldn't see anything--like that
almost," she snapped her finger. "On top of that my brothers
discovered that they had no right to cut timber there. Things were
going badly in France, too. So they went overseas. They were both
killed in the same action, on the same day. My books were left there
because no one had the heart to carry them out. It was all such a
muddle. Everything seemed to go wrong at once. And you found them and
enjoyed having them to read. Isn't it curious how things that seem so
incoherent, so unnecessary, so disconnected, sometimes work out into
an orderly sequence, out of which evil comes to some and good to
others? If we could only forestall Chance! Blind, blundering, witless
Chance!"
Hollister nodded, forgetting that the girl could not see.
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